


You Who Completes Me

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Homeless, Alternate Universe - Music Store, Brotherly Love, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Not Romance, Platonic Soulmates, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 20:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When they are on the street again, standing under the street light, Renjun tries to adjust his guitarcase and bag on his shoulders. When the teen smiles, Sicheng realizes he’s too pure to live this kind of life, it’s so fucking unfair; he’s about to grab Renjun and drag him home.





	You Who Completes Me

A well-dressed, elegant man throws a handful of cash into a black open guitarcase without even looking at the singer, and Renjun belatedly plasters a fake grateful smile on his face; honestly, he’s genuinely thankful, but he just has no strength to show his real feelings at the moment. He sings like three hours in a row, and he’s about to get his vocal chords disrupted. People are just passing by — Renjun’s innocent smile melts the hearts of some of them, some like his voice or his whole homeless look, and some even try to take a pity on him.

But talking is always a signal to shove his acoustic guitar into that guitarcase with his moomin sticker and scoot away.

Renjun doesn’t want to get remembered, and he changes his locations too often to be noticed in the town, at least, he thinks so. Also he thinks that for today his performance is over, the teen just gets ready to sing his last song — maybe, soon he will have enough money to buy some normal clothes in the second-hand. The weather is not friendly today, it’s rainy and a little snowy even, Renjun’s cold clumsy fingers almost freeze to the guitar strings, and sitting on the sidewalk is uncomfortable and wet.

Renjun sings until his lungs burn.

There is an unknown guy watches him from the periphery. Renjun’s hands are numb in these fingerless gloves, and the boy just hugs his guitar, catching his shaky breath after finishing the song.

“What are you doing here?” the guy’s voice is soft, there’s a small puff of cold air curls from his mouth, and he rubs his shoulders, gazing down at Renjun. The teen feels like his ass slowly turns into an ice, but he doesn’t move, he isn’t looking for a company, and he doesn’t want to show a secret place where he’s planning to stay for a night today.

“Working,” Renjun shrugs and then suddenly starts coughing not in a good way; he really should buy a woolen scarf or warm parka. Or thermal underwear. Renjun mentally rolls his eyes; all what he has now is a huge hole in his non-existent budget, so he has to control his unrealizable (and expensive) dreams.

“Why?” this question wins an award in nomination ‘Stupidest Thing Ever’. Renjun huffs.

“Um, well… because I’m hungry, but without money I’m just nothing?” Renjun gives the stranger a skeptic glance, evaluating this guy: dark hair, emo-stylish, jeans a little-too-tight, Renjun has no clue how he can wear this, purple hoodie — Renjun even envies — his denim jacket is too thin and too ancient to keep warmth.

“I can buy you something, what do you think?" Pretty boy offers, sitting down next to Renjun, and oh shit — he’s so, so warm, it’s so fucking good. Renjun is on the stage of catching a violent cold, and he resists the urge to dig his fingertips into this guy’s fleece side.

“I think you’re annoying,” Renjun pulls his old guitarcase closer, grabs the money, shoving them into his pockets, and packs his guitar.

“I’m working in music store,” brunette informs, giving him a banknote from his wallet.

“Too much unnecessary facts,” taking his money, Renjun gets up lazily and takes his guitar and backpack, slightly shaking of chill wind or maybe his temperature just gets high.

“Your voice is just perfect,” this guy tries again.

“Thanks.”

Renjun walks away without saying ‘goodbye’ even if it’s impolitely; he is not obliged to be polite with everyone, and he doesn’t trust strangers.

He knows what it feels like being pinned against the rough wall when someone’s hands caging him, he knows what it feels like bracing himself for another blow, being driven into a corner, he knows the most disgusting colors of the real world. Not all of the _blackest_ colors, but it’s all dark enough for the seventeen-year-old orphan, who was lighted up with the idea of escaping from the orphanage and finally did it.

Renjun can’t say he’s great at making his homeless-career, and the only way he gets money is playing his father’s guitar and singing near the shops and cafes; Renjun wants to get a real job, he’s dreaming about family, and he’s wishing his parents were alive. He wishes he could get out of the filth like his friend from the orphanage — Lele — who is Zhong Chenle now, he has all of it: mother-father-brother and good perspectives. Renjun knows where he lives now, he can find them and ask for a help, but he doesn’t want to be anyone’s problem. That holds him on the place.

To get adopted in thirteen is almost unreal, but Chenle just got lucky, and Renjun is happy about him, really, his new parents did a lot for making Renjun’s (almost two years) existence in the orphanage more bearable until he’d left.

Being homeless is not romantic, but not all of it is so bad; sometimes, there are pleasantly hot nights when Renjun sits on the roofs of rusty garages and stares at the starry sky, feeling almost happy and free and childishly making wishes when he sees something bright what resembles a falling stars.

Today was not the best day in Renjun’s life, but he knows a place for a night — a garage with a hole in the metal wall, there is a lot of some stuff covers it from the inside; probably, the owner is too lazy to attach a fresh metal layer on it. It’s a warm and dry place, and occasionally Renjun comes and uses it for sleeping. He has to wake up very early not to meet the owner, who seems to be a nice guy, but anyway. No one likes when homeless touch your things, also, there is a car in the garage — Renjun sleeps, pressed between the wall and the hood, almost under the mountain of a different crap. Not the cutest picture ever.

He crawls into his favorite place and curls into a fetal position, it’s warmer this way; the teen rubs his cheeks with his woolen gloves, feeling it starts to sting, fine, it means he’s not so helplessly frozen. He falls asleep as soon as he gets himself a little warmer and calmer.

Renjun is grateful that he usually just passes out without having dreams.

 

°°°

 

His sleeping interrupts by a hard blow in his face.

Renjun opens his bleary eyes, expecting to see the owner of this nice garage ready to beat him up, but he notices just a rugby ball, lying an inch away from him. Renjun shudders as he sits up, leaning his back against the pile of trash; probably, the ball fell down from the top of it. The teen doesn’t know what time is it, but he decides it was the sign to go, and slowly searches for that ‘exit-hole’.

Renjun’s nose hurts as hell, and the boy just hopes it isn’t bleeding; he quickly checks the nostrils and looks at his fingers — no blood. He’s lucky.

When he drags his body, bag and guitarcase out of the garage, he sees the sun in the sky and stretches, getting ready to run and find a place where he will sing today. His throat is still sore from yesterday though.

“Hey dude!”

Renjun turns to the joyful voice and sees a guy with messy black but half-bleached hair and paper bag in his hands. The owner. Amazing.

The teen presses his guitar to his chest, thinking where it leads to.

“I kind of saw you last night near my house, you sneaked into my garage, but you didn’t drive out the car, so it’s okay, well…” he ruffles his already crazy hair, smiling at Renjun. “It’s not my car, actually, I just work at the auto repair service, so I have to create a miracle with this car, and you couldn’t start the engine anyway.”

“And?” Renjun cautiously kicks a small stone in the front yard with the toe of his dusty sneaker. This man in pajamas looks more comforting than angry.

“AND, here, take it,” he shoves the bag in Renjun’s hands. “It’s a sweater, my aunt always gives me them, I have six or seven, and uh, just take.”

Along with a black sweater in the bag Renjun notices a plastic box for microwave with a steak and green peas.

“Do you want me to eat it right now or I can bring the box later?” the teen frowns.

“As you want, it’s all yours. Even a fork,” the guy smiles. “I’m Yukhei!”

“Renjun…” he scratches the back of his head through his grey knit hat he’s always wearing. “But my Birthday is not today,” he smirks.

“But it’s just a good morning?” Yukhei winks.

“Oh yes. So, bye?”

“Bye,” Yukhei beams again, and the teen turns away, holding his and Yukhei’s bags in his hands, and the guitarcase hangs behind his back. “Renjun, dude, wait!”

“What?” Renjun stops and feels clouds of anxiety embrace his mind as Yukhei obviously wants to offer something.

“I was glad to help. If you need a place for a night, you know the address,” he jokes.

“Yeah, your garage is just like a five-star hotel,” Renjun answers in the same tone and hurries to a formerly white fence.

Not all the shades of a homeless life are ultra dark.

 

°°°

 

It’s much warmer in the sweater.

Renjun travels away from Yukhei’s house and Narnia-style garage, seriously planning to get back next week; these three nights he spends on the street or in the basements of buildings, trying to be unnoticeable — not all the people are as sweet as Yukhei.

In the supermarket, Renjun re-counts his cash, thinking what he can afford today; he chooses a huge pack of chips and a bottle of milk, 50/50 unhealthy and healthy food, Renjun shrugs and goes to the cashier. There is only one buyer in the line before him, that pretty boy he met a few days ago; he grins like they’re friends, and Renjun even scowls at him. When Renjun takes his purchases, that dark-haired guy just waits outside the market, hugging his grocery bag to his chest with one hand, and his right hand shakes Renjun’s as the boy doesn’t know what to do.

He puts the food into his backpack, frowning at the stranger; walking everywhere with a guitarcase is pretty hard and dangerous, so all other things fit easily into a medium-size bag.

“I’m Sicheng, by the way,” the guy gives Renjun a Snickers bar, king-size, and the teen takes it, nodding.

“Thanks? Oh, I’m Renjun,” he feels his cheeks blushing, and the colour of his face is pretty similar to Sicheng’s crimson hoodie.

Renjun thinks he doesn’t have to call his real name, but it’s too late, and what else? He doesn’t think that Sicheng is interested in getting him back into the orphanage, and there are no people who could have printed Renjun’s face on the cartons of milk.

“Nice to meet you again, Renjun.”

This time, the teen really rolls his eyes. He’s sure next there’ll be an offer ‘go with me’, and Renjun just keeps silence.

“You have to be either with your parents at the dinner table or making out with your girlfriend,” Sicheng utters, and for Renjun it’s like a punch in the gut.

“My parents are in heaven, flying with angels, and my girlfriend is just a poster,” Renjun responds, putting as much sarcasm as possible in his answer, just enough to make Sicheng hurt.

“That’s sad,” Sicheng concludes. Renjun just snorts, thinking he has to hurry up if he still wants to sneak into that warm basement before other homeless dudes find it.

“Yeah, I’m sad, you’re sad, all our lives are sad,” Renjun quickly shakes Sicheng’s hand again and tugs his grey beanie to his eyes, walking away.

Sicheng drills Renjun’s back with his stare, Renjun feels it, but it doesn’t matter.

The teen just roams the city, seeking out his new address for tonight, Renjun doesn’t want to get lost somewhere or stay on the street again. He’s been beaten up in this homeless life, thank you very much.

The basement is empty, no signs of anybody else, and Renjun occupies a place in the corner, near the hot water pipes. Renjun likes warmth, he makes plans how he’s going to survive the autumn — it’s just the end of the summer, but the nights and mornings are so damn cold, and Renjun crosses the line out of his comfort zone.

The teen doesn’t think he has no future, no, he’s not a freak, he just can’t lose his last hope to find good people, maybe a family, maybe get back into the school — normal school without those teachers from the orphanage. Renjun wants to educate with Chenle and Chenle’s new friends. The boy eats up the last chips and drinks some milk, feeling stupid about not buying something else. Then he remembers about the chocolate Sicheng gave him and decides as a good boy he deserves a dessert today.

Renjun likes chocolate. He eats only a quarter, because he doesn’t know when there’ll be another time he can taste it, so he just saves it for the hardest days.

He’s sure it won’t take too long.

After his light dinner, Renjun chews mint gum, dreaming about the house, about family, about dog and something sweet, only to push away the symptoms of a cold. He covers himself with his blue denim jacket and rests his head onto the backpack, carefully placing his hand on the guitarcase and protecting the most precious thing he owns.

 

°°°

 

“Dude, I feel like shit about that joke. I’m sorry about your parents and about your girlfriend, even if she’s only a poster,” Sicheng repents, following Renjun as he meets the homeless teen again.

“I don’t have a poster.”

“Much worse.”

The boy is not singing tonight, and Sicheng just bumped into him as he went out of the door of the music store.

“Let me buy you some coffee?” Sicheng guesses it’s even more stupid than ask a girl for a date or dance, what the hell — Renjun is a guy, and it’s obvious that he doesn’t like other dudes in that point. But he’s freezing, breathing into his palms, barely covered with fingerless gloves.

“Only coffee?” Renjun sighs ruefully. “Okay.”

Sicheng gives himself a mental slap on the face. Of course, this teen is hungry, and Sicheng leads him into a small family style restaurant, ignoring the fact that Renjun hesitates, fidgeting on the chair with his bag and guitarcase on his lap. Finally, Renjun puts his things on the floor and sticks his nose to a menu, but he promptly sets it aside.

“I don’t, um…” Renjun checks his obviously empty pockets.

“Don’t worry. Take it as a gift from me.”

Sicheng orders hotpot for Renjun and a salad for himself, catching unconcealed happiness in Renjun’s eyes as the waiter brings him a plate with hot, flavorful food. It’s strange, but then the waiter puts onto the table two cups of a fresh natural coffee, according to its smell, and says it’s on the house. Jesus, with his charm and innocence Renjun can get even into Pentagon secret lab let alone get free coffee.

But Renjun eats only a half of his meal and looks at the food guiltily.

“What’s wrong?” Sicheng notices the boy nervously bites his bottom lip, avoiding Sicheng’s eyes.

“I… I’m sorry, but… I can’t eat much, I don’t know, but my stomach is not really good,” Renjun tugs the sleeves of his sweater down to his palms. “Gastritis or something like that, I just… I don’t want to spend the night puking my guts out.”

Fuck. Sicheng gets so sorry for the boy as he confesses he has some troubles that he wants to take him home and cuddle on the couch all the evening.

“You can take the food if you want,” Sicheng shrugs, but his heart races at Renjun’s weak smirk.

“It’d be nice,” Renjun is more alive than a second ago, and when Sicheng offers to call the waiter again, the teen just takes a plastic box out of his backpack and neatly fills the box up with the meat from the hotpot.

Sicheng’s desire to hug this guy suddenly gets twice bigger.

He can’t even imagine this boy sleeping on the newspapers or on the cardboard in basement with other homeless people, with rats, stray cats and dogs.

When they are on the street again, standing under the street light, Renjun tries to adjust his guitarcase and bag on his shoulders. When the teen smiles, Sicheng realizes he’s too pure to live this kind of life, it’s so fucking unfair; he’s about to grab Renjun and drag him home.

It’s creepy.

“Thank you,” Renjun nods, and Sicheng just can’t tear his eyes away from Renjun’s reddish bangs, peeking out from underneath his beanie.

It doesn’t look stylish, teen’s hair is greasy a little, but it doesn’t make his look less angelic; waiting for the continuation of a conversation, Renjun nervously chews his thumb. 

“What?” Renjun crosses his arms over his chest, and Sicheng gulps down the urge to blurt out ‘go with me’.

“Do you have where to stay tonight?” he keeps scanning the boy with his gaze.

“Oh, um, yes!” Renjun looks relieved. “Really, thanks again. It was nice, and you are definitely not an asshole. Well, bye?”

“Bye…” Sicheng catches Renjun’s cute habit of biting lips. “Just dude, stay safe. Promise me.”

“I prooooomise,” Renjun smirks; Sicheng finds the guts and reaches his hands to hug him, but the teen misunderstands and just highfives him instead. Well.

Renjun high-spiritedly rushes away, and the darkness outside the lamppost swallows him.

Renjun doesn’t deserve being swallowed by the darkness.

After this meeting, Sicheng’s life doesn’t change, but he keeps thinking about that sassy homeless guy, and he finds himself bothering about this boy’s life; maybe, if they meet again, Sicheng will offer Renjun to sleep on the couch in the living room in his apartment. He said — he finds places to spend the night, but how the fuck he pays for it if he hasn’t enough money to buy normal food?

Without any good reason, Sicheng starts searching Renjun; knowingly, he goes down into the basements, even donates to the shelter just to clean his conscience. He stares at homeless men, trying to find his new almost-friend in grey beanie — there are dozens of beanies, even grey, but. No result.

 

°°°

 

A week later, on the way back home from a shitty Birthday party of the one of his friends, Sicheng on autopilot thinks he has to pay a bunch of his bills, thinks about new tricks to make himself sleep at night. It’s pretty chilly evening, and Sicheng trips over something, keeps walking automatically, but after a millisecond he recognizes it was a… black guitarcase with that children's show character moomin sticker?

_No, please no._

Sicheng sees Renjun as soon as he woozily looks down at his feet; the boy lies on the pavement, in his so familiar knit hat and ugly baggy sweater with a hole on the elbow.

It seems like the boy is just sleeping, his cheek pressed to the dirty asphalt, but he is terribly pale, and when Sicheng crouches down next to him, he’s is not sure at first if Renjun is still breathing. The hurricane of soberness clears Sicheng’s brain, and Sicheng is just about to show all his skills of doing mouth-to-mouth.

“Shit,” Sicheng brushes the hair away from Renjun’s forehead; a pair of women passes by, laughing loudly.

No one gives a fuck about the homeless boy passed out on the street. The only one good thing is that no one has stolen Renjun’s backpack or his late father's guitar.

“Hey,” Sicheng shakes his shoulder gently, probably, he’s been lying like this pretty long time, and now he’s chilled to the bone.

After that one good shake Renjun lets out a groggy moan and lifelessly throws his head back when Sicheng carefully sits him up; he wants to press this teen to his chest, to put him into a hot bath, and make him a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows. Why the fuck does he think about it.

“You?..” Renjun’s unfocused eyes are half-open, but Sicheng sees no inner light in them, no ardor or even desire to live.

“Me. Renjun, what happened?” Sicheng asks persistently, snatching the front of Renjun’s sweater as semi-conscious kid almost collapses on the side again.

“I… I don’t remember,” Renjun anxiously adjusts his beanie. “Maybe, I got a little dizzy…”

“A little?! You fucking fainted, shit, you scared me!” Sicheng shouts without realizing it, and only when he registers the fear mixed with dust on Renjun’s face, he involuntarily calms down.

“I didn’t want to…” Renjun’s hoarse voice is an apologetic whisper. “I gotta go.”

He sways as he attempts to get up and awkwardly lands his butt back on the ground; Sicheng just wants to feed this teen and tuck all the blankets of the world on his bed.

Renjun props his elbows on his knees and clutches his head, probably, waiting until his vision clears. He keeps convincing Sicheng he’s okay, but he’s shaking like he has a fever, and Sicheng just can’t let himself be an asshole, so he stands up, reaching out his hand so Renjun could get a grip and finally get up.

“It’s enough. I’m gonna take you to my place, and don’t even dare to say a word,” Sicheng lives just a few blocks away from that club he’d been in. He lives in old apartment building, but he isn’t sure if Renjun can overcome this distance.

Meanwhile, Renjun finally jerks his head like he feels a little better, his nearly blue lips turn pink again, and the kid takes his guitarcase from the ground.

“I don’t wanna be a problem,” Renjun still avoids Sicheng’s eyes, but he sounds really offended when Sicheng throws a battered strap of guitarcase over his shoulder and pretends he’s gonna take Renjun on his arms and carry him. Renjun wriggles with a little laughter like he wasn’t lying on the ground unconscious around ten minutes ago. Sicheng grabs his bag and sighs.

“You are not a problem, you are a gift from above, dude, seriously,” Sicheng stubbornly offers his shoulder so Renjun could lean to it, and Renjun stubbornly refuses. Sicheng gives up. “Okay, just warn, if you’re going to pass out again.”

After this, Renjun snorts ashamedly, his fake bravery pretty fast fades away.

“I’m not suffering from… faints. I don’t know how that happened, and, honestly, I’m scared,” Renjun confesses timidly. “I don’t wanna wake up next time and find myself somebody’s toy,” he makes a bitter joke, walking unhurriedly after Sicheng.

“I’m not that someone,” Sicheng assures.

“Anyway, I have a knife,” Renjun informs. “I can stab you.”

“But you can’t keep your tongue behind your teeth,” Sicheng teases, and the teen just smirks in response. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

This homeless boy is okay now, Sicheng guesses, and only the hungry growling in Renjun’s stomach forces him to come back to reality; probably, the teen hadn’t eaten for days — Sicheng loses his desire to continue their conversation, when Renjun rubs his belly, painfully grimacing. He’s already so skinny.

In the kitchen in Sicheng’s apartment, he places several slices of pizza he ordered a few days ago and heated in the microwave on the table in front of Renjun, he notices the teen’s face lights up as he awkwardly reached to take one. Sicheng eats just to give Renjun a company, the food seems tasteless, but Renjun chews it with such a pleasure and healthy appetite, Sicheng can’t even imagine how sad this boy’s story is.

After the dinner, Sicheng offers him to change his clothes, because Renjun doesn’t even take his knit hat off, and his sweater and jeans are dirty. Sicheng just wants to make this boy feel more comfortable, but Renjun suddenly hugs himself, glancing at Sicheng with fear in his dazed eyes, even if he tries not to show it.

“No, please… I’m fine, can I go?” Renjun looks like a small ruffled bird, huddling into a corner of the sofa, but Sicheng is sure the teen is going to protect himself in every single possible way, so he doesn’t want to give him reasons.

“I don’t know what you are thinking about, but seriously, I wanna burn this shit you’re wearing,” Sicheng explains, standing at the respectful distance.

“Some guy, his name was Yukhei, he gave me this sweater” Renjun shrugs, spiraling down back to a good mood. “It’s very scratchy, but warm.”

It’s Sicheng’s official turn to roll his eyes. In his twenty one, he remembers pretty well what being a teenager means, but when Sicheng was seventeen, he couldn’t even imagine he has a chance to live on the street, just because his parents were something eternal for him. Shit, he still thinks so.

“Guess what I wanna ask?” Sicheng changes the topic, and Renjun sighs heavily.

“How long?”

“I lived on the streets like three months, I have no calendar,” Renjun smiles like it’s the funniest thing ever. “Sometimes, kind people offer their help… But some creep, twice bigger than me, tried to scare me, I almost thought he was going to... but he just wanted to intimidate someone and feel stronger I guess. Maybe a week and a half ago, but you know, I still can’t forget. He made me feel weak and easily accessible. Usually I don’t talk to strangers, but you are not a stranger, aren’t you?”

Excellent choice, Sicheng thinks bitterly. His friend is a strange homeless teen, he got beaten up, almost got assaulted, fainted in the middle of the street, and now he pours the bucket of his dark secrets straight onto Sicheng’s head. Renjun bites his lips, unsure what to say next.

“You can use a knife,” Sicheng suggests.

“I don’t have a knife.”

Renjun looks around the living room, at the posters on the walls, distracting from his words; Sicheng has a bass-guitar and synthesizer, and Renjun’s acoustic guitar and his voice is what Sicheng needs for starting his music career.

But also he needs to know any other facts about his guest.

“Wanna tell me more?”

To hear ‘fuck off’ from Renjun would be fair.

Now Sicheng sits next to him, almost shoulder-to-shoulder, and Renjun answers the question blankly.

“I was eight when my parents died. Car crash. I was at school, I wasn’t in that damned car, I hate cars! At first, in the orphanage, it wasn’t so terrible, people were kind to me and other children, but a few years ago those good old people had been fired…” Renjun’s voice is as sad as his speech, and Sicheng suddenly wants to call his own parents and tell them that they’re golden.

“Our new supervisor and teachers don’t like kids, I guess. Like it’s our fucking fault that we’re taking their precious time. When I was fifteen, my friend Lele got adopted, and I lost the last reason to stay there. You know, he visited me with his adoptive parents.”

“And then?..”

“I tried to escape from the orphanage when I was sixteen, twice, but I was stupid and got caught. Since that I have scars, but no one gives a fuck, because I am a _‘troubled teenager’_. The end,” depicting air quotes with his fingers, Renjun tiredly buries his face in his hands, leaning his back against the soft cushion.

“I swear, you’re safe here,” Sicheng’s heart clenches when Renjun stretches, raising his hands up, his sweater rides up along with the t-shirt underneath, and Sicheng’s eye catches a purple-black bruise on Renjun’s side, right above the waistband of the teen’s torn jeans.

Living on the street is hard.

“Aha,” Renjun huffs sarcastically.

“Dude, seriously. I can’t adopt you, but I can be your guardian, well, like you can live here if I prove that I’m capable to take care of you,” Sicheng is so inspired by this idea that he doesn’t even notice when he pulled Renjun into a tight hug.

“You are lying,” Renjun snorts, recoiling from Sicheng’s arms. “It won’t work. You don’t even want it.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Sicheng winks at the teen, and Renjun just rolls his eyes irritably.

Leaving Renjun on the sofa — the boy watches an old action movie — Sicheng like a ninja crawls into the bedroom and calls home. He wants to share his crazy plan with his parents. Sicheng has had a lot of crazy plans in his past, so he assumes his current idea wouldn’t be a big surprise for his Mom and Dad.

Sicheng’s palms go all sweaty as he hears a familiar and favorite voice.

“Hello, Sicheng!”

“Hey, Dad. Can you give me some advice?..”

 

°°°

 

It takes two days of phone conversations with lawyers and convictions that Sicheng isn’t going to hurt Renjun, and there are no needs to get this boy back into the orphanage. But, of course, Sicheng should talk to the owners — The Wu's; Mr. Wu bought this building with children a few years ago — he wanted to take care of orphans and create comfortable living conditions for them. ‘His wife literally thinks she’s a local goddess of justice’ Renjun said.

The orphanage looks more like a three-storeyed prison, in Sicheng’s opinion; he parks his car, and Renjun obviously feels uncomfortable, shifting on the passenger seat nervously.

“I hate this place,” Renjun mutters, gazing at his shoes.

“I understand it, man,” Sicheng encourages, wrapping his arm around the boy’s shoulder.

“No, you don’t.”

As they walk inside the building, Renjun guides him through the maze of corridors to the brown door with a silver-green nameplate ‘Mrs. Wu. Supervisor’, and Renjun’s face suddenly goes as pale as when he fainted on the street.

“Let’s go,” Sicheng touches Renjun’s sharp elbow; the teen shudders, making Sicheng to forget all the good things he found during Google-searching about Mr. and Mrs. Wu.

Renjun nods and opens the door gently, like he’s afraid of somebody in the office, who can shoot him with poisoned arrow.

Certainly, Mrs. Wu doesn’t look graceful. She looks more like Victoria’s mother from Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride, to be honest. The woman sits at the table as Renjun enters the room, and Sicheng follows his friend hesitantly. When Mrs. Wu finally notices them, she gives them a glance over her thick-rimmed glasses and slowly gets up from her black-shiny leather armchair, like she’s doing them a favor.

“Um, hi…” Renjun starts, biting his lips and thrusting his hands into the pockets of the hoodie Sicheng gave him.

“I thought you were dead, Renjun,” Mrs. Wu utters as she moves closer, forcing Renjun to take a step backwards.

“We are here just to talk, okay?” Sicheng offers, and the woman throws at him a glance, full of sarcasm.

“Really? Do you really think I want to talk to him?” she points her finger with a long nail at Renjun. “This was your third attempt to escape. Correct?”

“Why not?” Renjun’s innocent question doesn’t get an answer; all what the teen gets is a hard and loud slap across his face.

“Shut up!” Mrs. Wu brings her hand up to hit him again, but Sicheng snatches her wrist, while Renjun turns away, pressing his palm to his cheek. “Don’t you dare touch me, young man!”

“Don’t you dare hit him!” Sicheng snaps back, almost chocking on his bubbling up anger. “Renjun?”

Renjun’s reddened cheek burns, it’s hot as Sicheng presses his fingertips to the sore spot. Boy’s face doesn’t express any feelings; he just tugs his grey hat down, avoiding anyone’s eyes.

“I’m fine,” Renjun suddenly raises his head up and gives Mrs. Wu a mocking smirk. “Is that all you can do?”

“I hope you understand you deserve a punishment,” the woman crosses the room. “Thank you for bringing him back, mister.”

“He actually lives with me now,” Sicheng watches woman’s reaction; it seems Mrs. Wu just craves to hit Renjun again or whip him with his own belt. “C’mon, Jun, we’re leaving,” Sicheng clutches the strap of the bag on his shoulder, getting ready to speak.

“Do you want to kidnap him? Use him as a toy?” the supervisor of the orphanage huffs.

“Wanna be his guardian, and don’t say the shit like ‘you can’t’, I fucking can, and I’ve had a good consultation about a guardianship. Maybe, you want to see some papers I already have?” Sicheng’s sure it’s the best performance in his life; he doesn’t like to flaunt it, but, as a son of a highly qualified attorney, he knows some details and secrets about these cases.

Renjun stares at Sicheng like he’s a superhero. Sicheng places a thick paper folder on woman’s table and watches her reading the assignments and even articles Sicheng found to defend his and Renjun’s rights.

“It’s not enough,” Mrs. Wu smiles so sickeningly-sweet, that Sicheng wants to punch her.

But he just amiably returns the smile.

“Yes, of course. But it’s enough to take Renjun home until I can get other papers,” Sicheng tastes his victory, hearing Renjun’s heavy and sad sigh.

“Correct,” the woman signs the paper, closes the folder and gives it back to Sicheng. “You will regret about it. Renjun is a very troubled teenager.”

Sicheng barely holds himself back from rolling his eyes in best Renjun’s manner.

“He’s an angel. Goodbye,” Sicheng turns away and lets Renjun lead him out of the office, through the strangely empty corridors into the wing where the kids live.

They meet a group of kids on their way, but Renjun doesn’t pay attention and only nods at the greeting of some random guy. Maybe, he was abused by some of them, Sicheng guesses. Renjun doesn’t talk about it. Luckily, the room doesn’t look like a prison cell; it has four beds with grey bedsheets and little tables beside.

“Where are the others?” Sicheng just wants to beat the silence in the room.

“Do you really care about it?” Renjun gives him a grumpy question instead of a witty answer.

“No.”

Renjun uses a key and opens one of the drawers, taking out only one big backpack; Sicheng’s pretty sure his jaw drops on the floor.

“What? My roommates are nice, but they can steal something. I’m not sure it’s all my things, but fuck it all. Anyway, I couldn’t take it when I tried to escape,” Renjun shrugs. “Let’s get out of here.”

Sicheng is about to use a teleport and disappear from this damned place, honestly.

The teen keeps silence all the way back home, and even when Sicheng offers to go to café, Renjun shakes his head and confesses he can’t eat while he’s that way nervous.

In Sicheng’s (and Renjun’s) apartment they clean the bedroom so Renjun could live there; Sicheng throws all his clothes out of the wardrobe, and Renjun just laughs at his older friend and at his tight jeans and hoodie-collection. Renjun doesn’t have many clothes, but Sicheng figures even though his clothes were much bigger, they'd do the job for now, so he offers to share the clothes. Renjun agrees, but clarifies he’s not going to wear Sicheng’s clothes forever.

Renjun concludes he loves his new room with real, warm and soft bed, with pretty big windows and with Sicheng nearby.

Renjun is just the sweetest guy behind all that sass that Sicheng has ever met; he is polite and shy, he has the greatest sense of humor, he plays his old guitar every day, and he can sing. Sicheng falls in love with his voice and the way he pronounces the words, the way he breathes during his singing, he’s in love with every thing in this little dude. He's like the little brother Sicheng has always wanted.

“It’s all gonna be okay,” Sicheng promises as Renjun sits beside him on his bed, reading a book.

“I know, Sicheng...ge”

 

°°°

 

Nothing is impossible if the desire is bigger than Everest — Sicheng metaphorically cuts the throats almost to everyone who opens their mouths to bark _‘Renjun would be much better in the orphanage’_. 

In record time he gets all those stupid papers just to throw it on the table during their last visit to this horrible place. All the reports, including his volunteering in nursing home, donating for homeless animals and certificate from the psychiatrist. He can be a guardian by all the factors, despite the fact he’s just six years older than Renjun. Mrs. Wu looks at them like she’s gonna kill them, she purses her lips, says her ‘Fine’ and signs the final paper about the guardianship.

They celebrate the victory almost a week — they not just ‘live together’, they are a part of a social program, and Sicheng ‘takes responsibility for a child care’; these words sounded disgusting, slipping out of the lips of woman, who slapped Renjun just because he escaped from the orphanage. Punishments. She and her fucking husband were obsessed with those old-fashioned methods of keeping the discipline, and Sicheng still feels terrible about the other kids, honestly. Those defenders of children don’t give a damn about the real protection, and how it works; they can just grab money and ask for donating. At least, in that dark orphanage Renjun lived in.

Maybe that’s why they gave him Renjun so easily.

Renjun has a tiny scar on his eyebrow. Sicheng wants to believe it’s from falling onto the chunk of ice as Renjun explained him.

Then, Renjun finally talks to Chenle, that good friend from the orphanage, and it turns out he and his adoptive parents really tried to find Renjun while he was homeless, and Chenle is very glad that Renjun is even more okay than he had expected.

Renjun is excited about his new school — he’s enrolled in the same school as Chenle, and Sicheng’s sure this duo will give some hell to all the teachers; it’s normal, Sicheng himself is a troublemaker all his life, but now he has to be a good influence on Renjun. He’s just three years older — again, he understands it pretty well.

The only thing Sicheng is forced to do — to give Renjun imaginary kicks, making this boy to clean his room before visits of annoying social workers. Sicheng is pretty sure that Renjun hates all of them, because one affectedly softhearted woman gave an order to take Renjun’s t-shirt off just to make sure that the boy is not exposed to domestic violence.

Sicheng didn’t know that Renjun had thin scars on his shoulder blades.

 

 °°°

 

When people from the orphanage/social services stop bothering them for a while, Sicheng and Renjun finally can breathe freely.

Sicheng genuinely smiles at the customers in the music store, sells pretty expensive guitars and a lot of different accessories. Yes, he doesn’t look like a serious adult man, but Sicheng has some childish charm, and Renjun gives him life — when Sicheng takes Renjun at work with him, the teen’s verdict is: it’s a paradise. 

Something in Renjun’s words makes Sicheng to look at his life from the different point of view; this kid is totally right — Sicheng doesn’t waste his time as an office clerk after working his ass out in college. With Renjun, Sicheng is the luckiest one.

Even the weather is on their side — in early September the summer gives them the second chance; the sun shines non-stop again, and people on the streets are taking off their warm overcoats and sweaters.

Everything is so wonderful that Sicheng wants Renjun to know how happy he is with his presence, he presents Renjun a new guitar, but Renjun still keeps playing his father’s one. It’s okay.

Of course, he doesn’t consider Renjun as his son, no! — he’s more just like a roommate, soulmate and best friend.

A bright line on the black canvas of Dong Sicheng life.


End file.
